Sleepless
by Uakari
Summary: An extremely fluffy little one-shot inspired by a long, restless night of watching my  poor, long suffering  hubby sleep.  Pure, unadulterated fluff.


**Sleepless**

His eyes burned. The lights of the city slipped in and around the window dressings – no matter how tightly he bound them – and played light-hearted games with the shadows on the wall, occasionally breaking into full-on chaos as flashing red and blue tore through their playing field and scattered the smaller points into hiding.

This was the problem with technologically advanced worlds. No matter how shiny they made their toys, how thick they built their walls, or how allegedly "sound-proofed" their windows were, one could never fully escape the bustle of the city around them; the electric current pulsed through lights and buzzed through wires like a living thing demanding attention at all hours.

And it was getting plenty of _that_, if only because his heightened senses _insisted_ that he stay awake to over-analyze Every. Single. Little. Rustle. in the dark. Or, mostly dark; the constant bickering of the lights certainly wasn't helping put his mind at ease. Either way, it was clear that the chorus of roaring engines and blaring horns (accompanied every-so-often by the _delightful_, piercing descant of a wailing siren) wasn't going to afford him a moment's peace.

It didn't help that a small ocean of drool was slowly forming on his chest.

He shuffled restlessly and glared down at the pile of blond hair snoring gently against him, face hidden almost entirely as it breathed slow assurances that it was, in fact, asleep. _Lucky bastard._ And typical. Leave all the heavy lifting and not sleeping to the ninja. _Hmph_.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. Mostly (though he would never admit it), he was just jealous. _He_ wanted to feel so completely secure and at _home_ that he could simply drift off to sleep as well – without being jolted awake by some feral cat shuffling through a garbage can.

Damnable ninja training.

He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through the blond hair as the man next to him shifted in his sleep.

"Mmmph…Kuro-flub…"

He rolled his eyes. _That was a new one…_

"Yeah?" he answered after a moment, not entirely sure the other was awake. He almost hoped he wasn't; the wizard usually saved his best material for sleep-talking. Just last night he had been treated to a full dissertation on why squirrel meat was best served cold after marinating in bolognaise sauce for six hours. He'd also made a dutiful mental note that he was never to attempt this, lest he burn the kitchen down. He had forgotten to ask, however, if this applied to other game-inspired dishes, or was limited to squirrels…

With a little bit of luck, he might have managed to accomplish what hundreds of broken dishes and singed roasts had failed to do and secured himself a release from kitchen duties for the rest of his life…

Alas, he was not going to be given an opportunity to reopen deliberations tonight, nor was he about to be treated to any further half-conscious entertainment as Fay merely murmured softly and continued to blow spit-bubbles against his skin. He sighed and laid his head back against the pillow.

This was as close to home as he was going to get, for the time being. Another siren roared past the window and suddenly the blond pile of hair twitched and grew limbs that wrapped around his torso, squeezing tightly.

He chuckled to himself, quietly, lowly, so as not to disturb his bed partner as he felt the first waves of drowsiness wash over him. _No_, he decided, _this was home_.

* * *

He _hated_ these people-less worlds. No lights, no civilized sounds – it was maddening. He knew the others found the chirp of the crickets and the occasional muffled calls of the wild soothing, but they only rang dissonantly against his eardrums and screeched through his consciousness until he wanted to beg for mercy.

_Mercy!_

He longed for some reassurance that he was not alone here, nestled against a large, lifeless rock with his eyes pressed shut. He wanted people noises. Mindless chatter, yelps, screams, sirens, squealing tires, breaking bottles – he didn't care so long as it was made by _people_.

Unfortunately, the large, lifeless rock he was nestled against had the habit of reverting to a very un-people-like state when sleeping. He narrowed his eyes, staring into the other's face and _willing_ red eyes to open and assure him that the ninja had not, in fact, slipped into a coma.

It wasn't fair. How could Kurogane drift off to sleep and leave him here awake, tormented by the quiet and the eerie sounds that occasionally interrupted it? Didn't he know how _cruel_ that was?

He poked at the ninja's torso. Nothing. Not even a grunt. He twisted his face and wondered whether it was because the other was going soft or because he no longer registered the wizard as a threat.

Either way, there would be teasing in the morning.

Grinning with the knowledge of a newly-stocked arsenal, he set himself back to his task. He poked again, this time just above the ninja's belly button.

This produced a weak moan; probably nothing more than the effects of additional air pushed over resting vocal chords, but it was encouraging nonetheless. Not that he particularly needed encouragement.

He continued to poke, picking his targets randomly, each prod eliciting a more disappointing reaction than the last. Finally he stopped, snarling in disgust. _Lucky bastard._ He wanted to be blissfully unconscious as well, but would settle for having some disgruntled company in the darkness.

Despairing, he cast a long, doleful look at the sleeping ninja. _Disgruntled_, he imagined, _was going to be an understatement_. He hooked two of his fingers and slowly, stealthily, inserted them into the other's nostrils.

And pulled.

The reaction was not as immediate as he had hoped, but the sheer hedonistic _violence_ in the way the man sprang up and chased his violator around the dying embers of the campfire did not disappoint. They collapsed minutes later – one shaking with hysterical laughter and the other with barely contained rage – back into their makeshift bed.

"Why can't you just wake me up normally?"

"Because then I wouldn't get a work-out before bed. And then, I'd never fall asleep. And then, I'd have to wake you up again. And, you'd just get grumpier and grumpier with each waking until-" His words died off as a hand clamped over his mouth and another snaked around his waist. He grinned against the hand as the rock next to him settled back into its previous lifeless state.

_Because you'd think something was wrong. Because you'd never get back to sleep worrying about what I'm not telling you. And, because this is much more fun…_

Much, _much_ more fun, he decided and shuffled a bit closer. Now, he was tired. Now, he was comfortable. Now he was reassured. Now, he could…


End file.
